


guitar strings;

by joongz



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Friendship/Love, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joongz/pseuds/joongz
Summary: During the summer between being sweet sixteen and turning seventeen, Mingi met Hongjoong up by the abandoned basketball court, where no dreams are limited.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78





	guitar strings;

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoy this one!!
> 
> (Also if you're a mbb, here's a fic i wrote 2 years ago set in the same universe: [clouds;](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645212))

Mingi dreamed big, always had, ever since he had been a kid— _especially_ as a kid. 

He grew up in a place of dead things, quiet and somber. There was enough space for his dreams to bloom, but as he grew older, from a little boy to a teenager, the bitterness of life started to catch up with him. It began when he understood that the bottles lining the kitchen counter late at night—that always magically vanished in the morning—weren’t just there as decoration. Even if his uncle tried hard to hide them and his addiction, Mingi began to understand what they meant when he was about thirteen. He pointedly ignored them for he didn’t know how to approach his uncle about them, he was still too young. But he carried the burden with him.

He was sixteen when they talked about it.

“Hyung!” he called out excitedly. He had just gotten home from a late basketball practice. He placed his duffel bag ungracefully on the ground, kicking off his shoes in the corner by the entrance. He had made it on the basketball team, he wanted to share these news, but he was stopped dead in his tracks when the silent, small house was torn by a quiet sob. “Hyung?” he started softly.

His uncle was in the living room, seated on the couch, as he usually was after his shifts at the car cemetery were over. In one hand he held a bottle of liquor and in the other an old photograph. Mingi didn’t need to look at it to know which one it was. His heart squeezed in his chest as he approached his uncle.

“Jaewoo hyung?” he repeated, this time louder to make his presence known.

His uncle startled, sitting up straight. In a fruitless attempt he tried to hide the bottle behind one of the couch’s pillows. “Mingi.” He turned around, a watery smile on his face. He didn’t try to hide the tears in his eyes, his cheeks stained. He still held the photograph, wrinkles in the place his thumb had unconsciously tightened. “You’re home early.” 

He really wasn’t, but Mingi didn’t say anything. He stared at the photograph, his parents smiling back at him. It was the day of their wedding; a tiny, toddler Mingi was there as well in the arms of Jaewoo. They were the happy days that Mingi didn’t miss since he couldn’t really remember them, they had died when he had been two. Still, the idea of loving parents, he missed that every day. 

Mingi understood the bottles then, and the anger he had once felt towards Jaewoo for drinking vanished. Jaewoo was just trying to escape, trying to kill the pain within him. Mingi knew it wasn’t the best way to do so, but he couldn’t exactly give out advice on how to deal with it better. He didn’t know that pain, at least not in the same way his uncle did.

“Do you have more photographs of them?” he asked as he joined Jaewoo on the couch, glancing at the small metal box standing on the table between the couch and the TV.

His uncle sniffled, nodding his head. He grabbed the box, opening it as if it was the most precious thing in the world—to him it probably was. He had lost his sister and best friend on the same day, these photographs were all he had left of them aside from his memories.

When Mingi went to sleep that night his dreams stayed within the precinct of the car cemetery, and that was just the start of them getting trapped.

That same year Mingi searched for an escape of his own. He didn’t find it in a numbing substance—although he often wished he could have. He began wandering the picturesque neighborhood in the middle of the night, after Jaewoo was passed out on the couch. Mingi never left without gently placing a blanket on him—they never spoke of it. 

The quietness and the loneliness of the neighborhood gave his mind space, for the better or the worse.

Mingi began wandering up to the hill near the car cemetery, where an abandoned basketball court spread out like an unexplored temple. Behind one hoop there was an overwhelming view onto his neighborhood and the small town that spread beyond it, the ocean a dark mirror in the far distance. Behind the opposite hoop stood the abandoned buildings, looming giants that had lost a battle fought long ago. They were relics from a time that everyone had forgotten, now home for drug dealers, troubled high schoolers, and rich kids looking for a kick. But Mingi wasn’t there for either of those things, what attracted him was the huge wall standing opposite from the entrance to the basketball court.

He passed through the fence’s gate, it gave away a shrieking sound, startling some critters in the bushes. Mingi was no artist, but through his friend Yeosang he had picked up one or two things, growing quite fond of spraying cans and the canvas that a wall in a forgotten and abandoned place presented. No one could judge his art up there, no one could see it, he was left to just create at his heart’s content.

It was on that August night, when Mingi had just turned seventeen, that he properly met Kim Hongjoong, the intimidating, scary looking senior from high school. Hongjoong was notorious for his brightly dyed red hair, his combat boots and leather jacket; for his intense and judgemental gaze, the piercings decorating his ears, and of course the guitar slung across his shoulders that he never seemed to put down. Mingi had never really heard him play, he wasn’t sure anyone ever had.

The night was filled with the music coming from one of the abandoned buildings and the rattling of the spraying can Mingi was holding. The torch on his phone was pointed at the wall, but he wasn’t really going for something specific, he felt quite abstract that day, his feelings a mess and so would the outcome on the graffiti wall be.

Even if he was focused on his art piece, the tremble of dirty bass a nice companion, he picked up the sound of guitar strings being softly plucked at. Mingi lowered the can and turned around. He stared at the night around him, trying to discern something in the darkness. He saw a figure by the far end of the basketball court. A figure sitting on the ground, the pale moonlight shining on them. 

Now, Mingi wasn’t exactly an introvert or shyed away from social interactions—no, that was rather Yeosang’s territory—but he felt a sense of respect when he looked at the person playing guitar all by themselves. It was an odd place for some late night jamming. The person clearly had come up there for some time alone, but Mingi’s curiosity was stronger than the possible rejection from striking up a conversation with a stranger.

Before he could change his mind he put down the spraying can and grabbed his phone. He made his way over to the guitar player; only when he was close enough to the person that their hair, which had looked like a faded out brown in the pale moonlight, became a striking red, did he feel a little bit of fear.

 _Hongjoong_.

It was too late already to turn around because the senior had sensed his presence and had stopped playing the strings, turning his head around to see who was interrupting him. 

Mingi shuffled awkwardly, smiling hesitantly. “Hey,” he breathed out.

“Oh.” A flicker of recognition went through Hongjoong’s eyes. “Song Mingi, is it?” A strange sense of pride went through Mingi upon realizing that Hongjoong knew who he was. He nodded his head. “It’s odd meeting you up here.”

“I could say the same. One usually plays guitar at home. Not—” He gestured around. “Not _here_ , where people come to forget.”

“Maybe I am trying to forget something,” Hongjoong pointed out, rightfully so.

Mingi faltered, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “Ah, shit. Sorry.”

The senior laughed. “It’s okay. I actually accompanied my friend here—Seonghwa, maybe you’ve heard of him? He was invited to a rave but it’s not really my thing.”

Mingi glanced at the giant buildings behind them. They were so tall that the tops of them melted into the night’s sky. For all they knew, they could be infinite. “I see.”

“Why are _you_ here, Mingi?” Hongjoong asked.

“To forget, of course,” he replied, easily, but when Hongjoong stared at him with those piercing eyes he began feeling uncomfortable, so he shrugged, at lack of anything better to say.

“Forget what?” Hongjoong pressed.

Mingi might have been someone sociable, but he wasn’t one to share his secrets with strangers. There was something about that night, though, or perhaps that place. The abandoned basketball court up on the hill had a sacred like status, what happened up there mostly stayed there. It was unacknowledged in the daytime, unacknowledged by the city hall. It was almost as if all the secrets and dreams that had come up there to die held a protective hand over it to prevent anyone from destroying its sacred status.

 _A sanctuary_ , Mingi thought, that was an appropriate word for it.

“I’m trying to forget that my uncle drinks because he doesn’t know how to deal with the pain of losing my mom and her husband, which coincidentally happened to be his best friend,” he spilled out, his words hushed and quiet, too scared to admit this out loud. Not even Yeosang knew of Jaewoo’s drinking problem, although he had probably picked up on it over the past years.

A pinched expression crossed Hongjoong’s face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s alright,” Mingi told him, and he found that to be true. 

That pain he had held inside of his soul since his discovery slowly left his body, bleeding into the night. It was as though he had been waiting for this, to say these words out loud, to have someone free him of this burden. He wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.

“Do you want to join me?” Hongjoong asked suddenly, jerking his chin at the spot next to him on the basketball court.

“I can’t sing,” Mingi told him, but he was already sitting down.

Hongjoong smiled. “That’s okay. I’ll sing for the both of us.” And then he started strumming the guitar’s strings with his long and delicate fingers. Mingi didn’t know the song, but when Hongjoong’s voice filled the summer’s air around them, it didn’t really matter. What mattered were his words, a song about reaching out to a friend that was in trouble and needed help. Pleading and begging that friend to swallow their pride and ask for help, that there was no need to walk alone; to suffer alone.

Mingi looked up at the starry sky, blinking repeatedly as tears rolled down his cheeks.

(Whether Hongjoong noticed him crying or not was a mystery, for he kept playing sad song after sad song.)

They met two nights later, coincidentally again, up on the basketball court. This time it was Hongjoong that approached an unsuspecting Mingi. There was no party going on and so the night was quiet—only the crickets serenading them, an owl hooting in the distance, and a car that drove from nowhere to anywhere, or the other way around. 

Mingi was focused on mending together the yellow and red to make orange, a comforting and warm color in his opinion. He needed that to erase the guilt on the tips of his fingers after leaving his house at the car cemetery, Jaewoo on the couch drinking and watching TV with unseeing eyes.

When someone tapped his shoulder softly, Mingi first thought that he was about to encounter a ghost. He turned around, startled, and gasped when he found Hongjoong staring up at him with an easy smile instead. 

(His heart jumped as well, for reasons still unknown to him.)

“Mingi,” Hongjoong said as if he had been waiting for him for centuries and finally was seeing him again, like a reunion between two lost souls.

“Hyung.”

Hongjoong looked at the painting on the wall. “So you’re the one vandalizing these walls, huh?”

“Not just me,” Mingi defended himself, glancing at the rather crude drawings that lined the wall. He had to admit that there was a rather impressively realistic graffiti of a dick between the mass of stick figures and simple dicks. It could have been in a Biology book for human anatomy. “My friend has done some of these, too,” he added, jerking his chin in the direction of robots fighting aliens. 

“Ah, Kang Yeosang?” Hongjoong inquired. “The little guy with the blonde hair?”

“Yes,” Mingi replied, not pointing out that Hongjoong was most likely smaller than Yeosang. “Are you alone here?” he asked, looking around.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes.”

Hongjoong hummed, taking the spraying can out of Mingi’s hand. A comfortable silence spread over them. Mingi was always so caught up in talking and entertaining those around him, making sure they didn’t think he was ignoring them or found them boring, that he had forgotten how sacred a silence like this could be. That—sometimes—words weren’t needed. He let out a relieved sigh, one he hadn’t known he was holding; one he had probably held in for a very long time. 

He watched Hongjoong draw nonsense onto the wall—an attempt of a guitar, lyrics of a song Mingi didn’t know, a lightning bolt—and somehow he found himself feeling quite at peace. Suddenly the idea of change made sense to him. He wasn’t going to stay in this misery forever. He searched Hongjoong, from his red hair, over his edgy clothes, down to his combat worn boots.

“Why are you really here, hyung?” he asked.

The senior stopped, his hand hovering in the air as if he was a robot and someone had turned his switch off. Hongjoong didn’t move for a couple of seconds, his eyes glazed over, but then he lowered his arm, dropping the spraying can on the floor. He turned around to face Mingi, his dark brown eyes intense and hard.

“We established this place was for forgetting, didn’t we?” Mingi swallowed, fearing he might have crossed a line. Hongjoong seemed to pick up in his apprehension, and attempted to smile at him. “Eh, don’t worry. It’s nothing serious, just a slight disagreement with my family.”

Mingi breathed out in relief. “I’m sorry to hear that.” The hard look in Hongjoong’s eyes stayed for a split moment, turning dark and sorrowful, but then the senior smiled brightly, pointing his index finger at something in the distance. Mingi turned around to find an orange ball lying on the court.

“I heard rumors you were going to become the basketball team’s Captain next year. I think I should test out your abilities.”

Mingi raised his eyebrows. “Do you even know how to play?” 

Hongjoong scoffed, walking towards the ball in long strides. “Of course I know. Basketball is like—the town’s pride, _everyone_ knows how to play.” He picked up the ball, dribbling it a couple of times before he picked it up and threw it at the nearest hoop. It fell through neatly. Hongjoong smiled cockily at Mingi, waggling his eyebrows in a taunting manner. “What? Surprised?”

Mingi held his gaze, a sizzling tension filled the air between them, it was still rather quiet back then, and they both were good at ignoring it, but it had been there on the second.

“Alright, let’s play,” Mingi said and took the ball off the ground, dribbling it towards Hongjoong, and just when the senior reached out his hand to take it away, Mingi did a spin, gracefully taking the ball with him. He jumped into the air with all his might, scoring a perfect point.

“That’s unfair. You’re freakishly tall,” Hongjoong complained, a pout forming on his lips. 

“Sure.” Mingi grinned.

They played until they no longer could ignore their breathlessness and the stinging in their muscles. They ended up lying on the court’s ground—the ball had bounced off to some forlorn corner in the darkness—and were staring up at the starry sky. Their bodies were close, so close in fact that Mingi could feel the heat radiating from Hongjoong. 

“What do you think is up there?” Hongjoong asked then, his voice raspy.

“A wall,” Mingi replied without hesitation. He turned his head, trying to conceal the grin threatening to break out. He put on a TV presenter’s voice. “Yeah, actually, welcome to _The Truman Show_ , but it’s the second part, _The Hongjoong Show_. Surprise!”

Hongjoong shoved his shoulder in a tired attempt, a smile pulling at his lips. “Shut up.”

“What do you think is up there?”

“Aliens,” replied Hongjoong without hesitation. “A sea of endless possibilities.”

“You know, the sea is actually down here with us—”

“Mingi.”

“Hyung.”

Hongjoong was staring at him in exasperation, but it was clear he was fighting off a smile.

“Shut up,” he repeated, weakly, and returned his eyes to the sky, but Mingi was caught up staring at him. From his pointy nose and sharp cheekbones, his overall angular face. His eyes, bright and dazzling, eager to know everything the world had to offer. 

Mingi looked up as well. “I like to imagine that the stars are all of our lost dreams, and once in a while they fall back down, returning to us.”

Hongjoong was silent for a moment. “That’s kind of sad, but hopeful at the same time. Very poetic.” He glanced at Mingi with a soft smile. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Captain.”

Mingi realized he was blushing then, his cheeks burning unpleasantly and his lower back felt as though it had become the home for a thousand needles. “I’m not yet Captain,” he murmured, embarrassed for some reason.

Hongjoong hummed. “Are you going to do anything with it? Basketball, I mean.”

“Well, it’s gonna help me get into college. But I don’t think I actually want to become a professional player, it’s just—I am not in a good financial position to not be good at it.”

“What would you do then, if you were in a good financial position?”

Mingi shrugged. “What’s the point in wondering? This is my life. I’ll get into uni and will play basketball the best way I can while studying business or something along those lines. I haven’t really decided yet.”

Mingi saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Hongjoong had turned his head towards him. He returned his stare, and for a moment they looked at each other silently. Mingi’s heartbeat picked up and he felt his neck prickle most unpleasantly, but also in an exciting way. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Without a conscious decision his eyes flitted down on Hongjoong’s lips for a short second, when he looked back up Hongjoong’s gaze was intense.

“What—What will you study?” Mingi asked, not knowing what to make with their silence.

Hongjoong let out a sigh, looking back up at the sky.

“Music,” he responded, and Mingi wasn’t surprised by that answer. “It’s the only thing I know and am good at.”

“I think you’ll make a great musician.”

“We will see. First I have to survive these nights,” he added the latter in a quiet and strained voice, as if it wasn’t quite meant for Mingi to hear so he ignored it. “Can you promise me something, Mingi?”

“What is it?”

“Find something that makes you want to live, no matter how hard things will turn to,” Hongjoong told him. It was a strange request, but it felt as though Hongjoong was sharing an important lesson with Mingi and so the younger nodded his head. A shooting star parted the night sky then. “Hey, seems like we can make a wish,” Hongjoong said, as if nothing had happened. But Mingi was still caught up on Hongjoong’s words. There wasn’t anything that made him want to bleed to stay alive, and so he didn’t wish for anything.

(When Mingi got home at around three in the morning, he lay down in his soft bed with one single thought in his mind: if he were a courageous man he would have kissed Hongjoong up on the abandoned basketball court, underneath the starry sky and lost dreams. He wasn’t too thrown off by this revelation—that he had considered kissing another boy.)

Mingi kept going back to the hill that summer, but he didn’t bump into Hongjoong again. It left him with a bittersweet feeling. He felt some sort of heartache for the remainder of that summer. Were two meetings even enough to feel something for someone?

But that wasn’t the only reason his heart hurt, there was the request Hongjoong had made before disappearing, about finding something that would make Mingi hold on to life. He slowly realized that there was nothing for him, his mind was blank, and it terrified him. What was he doing there, on earth? 

The car cemetery that once had been so quiet and given space to his wildest dreams now felt small and like a cage, the quietness swallowing him whole and offering too much space for his thoughts. 

Mingi wasn’t sure what he had expected when going back to school in September for his last year. In the back of his mind he was very aware of the fact that Hongjoong was a year older than him and was off to university to study music as he had said he would, whether it was the small community college in their small town or one of the bigger ones in the city a couple of hours away. For some reason, when he walked down the school’s corridor towards his class, he expected to see Hongjoong in the crowd of students, his bright red hair sticking out like a sore thumb, but of course he wasn’t there. He had graduated, like the rest of seniors.

“Hyung, I know it’s the first day of school and all, but there is no reason to look this crestfallen about it,” said Jongho, appearing out of thin air—he had a habit to do so. Mingi looked down at his other friend, grimacing. “What happened? Did you not eat breakfast this morning?”

“I did,” Mingi said.

“What is it then?”

Mingi sighed. “I just—I had hoped to see someone, but they graduated. I had completely forgotten about it.”

Jongho’s eyebrows shot up. “See someone?” he repeated, curiously. “Did you meet someone over summer? Does Yeosang _know_ about this?”

“No, he does not. And he won’t,” Mingi added, aiming for a threatening tone. “It doesn’t even matter.”

“You seem sad about it. I wouldn’t say that it doesn’t matter, hyung.” 

“I thought…” he trailed off, not knowing what he was going to say. What was there to say anyway? They were barely acquaintances—him and Hongjoong. “Doesn’t matter,” he said again, shrugging. “How was your summer?”

“Smooth,” Jongho muttered. “You know how my summer was. You were at my house most of it, playing video games with me.”

Mingi pressed his lips together. “Shut up.”

Jongho opened his mouth to say something but he was immediately distracted when he spotted Yeosang walking towards them. “Hyung!” he called out, waving his hand at their friend. “Over here!”

Yeosang approached them with a playful smile and a relaxed pose. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, shaking it a little. It was a lot longer since the beginning of summer, when Mingi and Jongho had last seen him. Yeosang had been gone for the whole summer, living with his aunt and cousin two cities over. 

Yeosang moved an arm around Jongho’s shoulder, drawing him in for a brief hug. He proceeded to mess up Jongho’s perfectly styled hair.

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jongho protested, flushing a deep color of red, and swatted Yeosang’s hands away. He looked at his best friend, taking in the subtle changes. The youngest looked a lot like he had been struck by lightning. “You look… different.”

Yeosang glanced down at himself. “Good different, I hope.” Jongho nodded his head mutely. “You look about the same.” He squeezed Jongho’s cheek playfully. When he finally looked at Mingi, his grin vanished. “And you look sad, which isn’t unusual, but I’m sensing _something_.”

“Summer was weird,” Mingi replied, shrugging. 

Yeosang looked him over but didn’t further ask questions, instead he began chatting animatedly with Jongho as the three waited for the school’s bell to ring. Amidst the crow of students Mingi caught a glimpse of bright red hair and his heart stopped. He stood on his tiptoes to look at the red headed student, and he felt a pang of disappointment when he discovered it was only Choi San. Mingi looked away again, sighing as his heart stuttered in his chest. It was ridiculous that it was aching.

“—and then my cousin took me to the pride parade,” Yeosang was retelling his summer’s adventures. “It was… really eye opening.” He looked at both of his friends meaningfully, a guarded look passing over his face. 

“So your cousin is lesbian?” Jongho inquired.

“No.” Yeosang shook his head. “He is a boy. He came out a bit before summer and waited to tell me in person.”

Mingi cocked his head in confusion. “What do you mean your cousin is a boy? She—”

Yeosang shook his head. “No, not ‘she’. _He_ came out as transgender. He’s always been a boy, but he didn’t know that until recently.”

“Transgender?” Mingi echoed. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Well, now you have,” Yeosang said, defensively. “It was very hard for him to come to terms with it and come out. It’s not easy when you—It just isn’t easy, don’t make it more difficult.”

“Sorry,” Mingi apologized. He had met Yeosang’s cousin a couple of times, years ago, when they all had been kids. “So does he, uh, use a new name? Or is it the same?”

Yeosang smiled. “His name is Wooyoung.”

“That’s a nice name,” said Jongho, eyes wide. “What did you think of Pride?”

Yeosang looked thoughtful for a moment. “It was very nice. Everyone seemed so free. It made me reflect a lot.” Before Mingi could ask what exactly he meant by that the bell interrupted their conversation, and they parted ways to get to their classrooms.

(For the rest of the day Mingi couldn’t stop thinking about Pride. He had heard about it, of course, and had seen the colorful flags on TV when they live broadcasted the event a year ago. For a moment he had watched it with fascination before he had switched the channel, scared that someone would pop out of nowhere and accuse him of something. Not that he believed it was a crime, but the world sure tried to make it seem so. With the new revelation that he was sort of heartbroken over Hongjoong, he supposed it made sense that he had been so drawn in by the rainbow flags back then.)

Being the Captain of the basketball team brought a lot of responsibility and Mingi tried his best to deal with it. He pushed himself to his breaking point more than once, but he believed it was necessary to make his team succeed. It was his last year in high school, he wanted it to mean something—plus he needed to stand out to get into the university of his choice so he could move out of town with Yeosang. Everyone always said that high school was memorable but so far Mingi only wanted it to end.

It was January and they were playing against the other school in town. Their Captain was a boy named Jeong Yunho. He was taller than Mingi, but not as intimidating. He had a kind smile and despite the fact that they were meant to be rivals, after Mingi’s school won the match, Yunho came over to him to shake his hand.

“You’re an excellent player, Mingi,” Yunho said, his tone genuine. “I’ve heard a lot about you and I was curious to see if you lived up to the hype, and you do.”

Mingi was surprised, taking Yunho’s hand to shake it. “You’ve heard of me? From whom?”

Yunho smiled. “A friend of mine. He went to school here, actually. He graduated last year.”

Mingi’s heart jumped in his chest. The interior basketball court around them—the people in it, the noise—vanished.

“A friend? What’s their name?” he asked, realizing his voice was slightly shaky.

“Kim Hongjoong,” Yunho answered, frowning slightly when Mingi just stared at him.

“Hongjoong hyung? Is he… Is he okay?” Mingi finally squeaked out. Yunho’s face fell, he bit his bottom lip nervously, and glanced around himself as if to look for an escape. “Yunho, please, tell me.”

“He is living in the city now, attending university there with Seonghwa hyung,” Yunho began slowly. “He has seen better days.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The summer before he left for uni, he had a huge fight with his parents. They kicked him out. He had to go to the city earlier than planned…” 

The floor under Mingi disappeared. In fact everything around him disappeared, all he could hear was the steady and loud beat of his heart. Fear consumed him.

“Why did they—?” he started, the words getting stuck in his throat.

“It’s not my place to tell you, but I could give you his number? I’m sure he would like to hear from you,” Yunho offered, looking troubled.

“Yes, thank you.”

(On his way home Mingi stared at the new digits in his phone with apprehension. He wanted to call him so badly, but he didn’t know what to say. He slid his phone back into his trousers’ pockets and turned the radio in Jaewoo’s car up until all his thoughts became quiet. His uncle shot him a look, laughing when Mingi sang along to the song, off key and with way too much dramatism. But the pain Mingi felt as he sang wasn’t for the dramatics, he felt like he was drowning.)

During spring Mingi attended a party and kissed his first boy. It ended up being Yunho and as comfortable and nice as it had been, he did think of Hongjoong and wondered how the older was doing—he still hadn’t called him, fear held him back. Yunho had realized this and pulled away only a few seconds into the kiss. He had given Mingi a peculiar look, and then had smiled.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he had offered, and that was where they found themselves now, walking up to the hill with the abandoned basketball court, each with a bottle of beer in their hands.

The air smelled sweet and fresh, the soft breeze was warm but the night was still cold, it was a delicious atmosphere Mingi found. He hadn’t been up there since the summer, after hoping and hoping he’d find Hongjoong, he had given up on that, and then it had become too painful to be up there, even to forget. Because he didn’t want to forget anymore, he had realized it didn’t fix anything. He learned pain was meant to be felt as much as joy, and when there was pain he was resorting to taking all of it, and fight for a solution for it.

It appeared that the night had other plans for him, though, because the moment Yunho and him walked through the gate by the fence, there was a person on the court, dribbling that old basketball and trying to shoot at the hoops. They weren’t a good player.

Yunho stopped, cocking his head curiously. Mingi squinted at the person, something about their figure seemed familiar.

“No way,” Yunho muttered, walking to the hoop. “Hyung?” he inquired.

The person stopped, turning towards Yunho.

“Yunho!” That voice made Mingi freeze, his heartbeat picking up. “What are you doing here?”

“I came here with a friend to drink and talk about our problems,” Yunho replied, gesturing at Mingi.

Hongjoong turned around to look at Mingi, the basketball falling out of his hands the moment he realized who it was that was standing by the fence.

“Oh,” the older breathed out. 

Mingi took a tentative step forward. The closer he got the more he could identify Hongjoong’s face. He didn’t have the red hair anymore, instead it was a dark brown, but the rest of him was just as striking. The expression on Hongjoong’s face was full of surprise, and something else Mingi couldn’t quite read. 

“Hongjoong hyung,” he greeted him, quietly. “How have you been?”

Hongjoong swallowed, not moving. Yunho sensed the awkward and tense air around them and walked off to pick up the basketball—which had rolled off to a distant corner of the court.

“Mingi,” was all he said. His tone blank, and slowly his face became unreadable. “Long time no see.”

Mingi clenched his fists. “Yeah, you never came here again,” he said. He didn’t want it to sound as accusatory as it came out, but he had been hurt, as ridiculous as it might seem. They had met twice, but somehow those encounters had spun Mingi’s world upside down.

Hongjoong lowered his head. “I’m sorry about that. I couldn’t—I had to leave.”

Mingi recoiled, remembering the words Yunho had told him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I would like to keep in touch this time around,” Hongjoong said after a brief silence. “I regret not asking for your number when I left. I regret that so much, Mingi.”

Mingi felt his heart soar at those words, and he tried to swallow the burst of excitement and butterflies that raised in his stomach. It was ridiculous what an effect Hongjoong could have on him. They were barely acquaintances, but there was something so magnetic about him. It just felt right. Mingi had always thought one would spend a lifetime looking for the right kind of love, but he believed it was standing right in front of him.

“Yunho gave me your number, but I never—I wasn’t even sure you’d remember me. I regret not calling you,” Mingi said. “Let’s make it right this time.”

Hongjoong smiled, nodding his head. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Usually Mingi would have avoided Jaewoo when he came home late. His uncle wasn’t well spoken to when it was past midnight and he had been drinking, unseeingly staring at the TV, remote control in his free hand. But that night, when Mingi passed through the threshold, there was too much going on in his mind, that he joined Jaewoo on the couch.

They sat in silence, only the muffled noises of some gun fight on the screen filled the eerie night.

“Jaewoo hyung,” Mingi whispered at some point, when he felt brave enough—when the night felt like a dream and they were suspended somewhere no man could reach. 

(He sometimes wonders still if that night had existed at all.)

“Yes?” His uncled turned his head towards Mingi, his eyes tired looking, but he didn’t appear to be as drunk as Mingi had believed upon his arrival.

“What…” he started, hesitantly. He clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. He felt as though he was about to throw up but at the same time explode out of excitement and pride, and of course he was on the verge of tears because he was so overwhelmed with this self discovery. “What are your thoughts on um, gay people?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse, and the words not quite coming out how he wanted them to.

Jaewoo stared at him with a blank face at first, but then he let out a deep sigh, lulling his head so he was now staring up at the ceiling.

“I think they should be free to live their lives like anyone else,” Jaewoo finally replied. “Why are you asking, Mingi?”

“I-I,” but Mingi didn’t find his words anymore. His heart was pounding and the little rush of courage he had mustered up vanished just as quickly. Jaewoo’s answer hadn’t exactly been negative, but Mingi’s throat was tight and he couldn’t speak.

“Have I ever told you how your mother and I met your father?” his uncle asked then, returning his gaze on Mingi. His eyes were kind and the tiniest smile curled his lips upwards.

Mingi shook his head.

“Your mother was playing wingman for me. We were at this club—The Wonderbar—and I had just broken up with my ex, and was sad… I saw your father and thought he was cute, so I asked Heejin to approach him and ask him for his number for me.” Jaewoo smiled wistfully. “Needless to say, by the end of the night, one of us had your father’s attention. We became really good friends after that and hung out a lot. About a year later your parents were dating.”

Mingi’s heart pounded in his chest, his entire being was shaking, and there were hot tears in his eyes that he tried to blink away but more came.

“You’re… gay?” he questioned, trying to understand.

“Yes, Mingi, I am gay,” Jaewoo clarified. “So, you know, I’m here to support you. Always.”

Mingi had his hands balled into fists on his lap, where he clenched and unclenched them, trying to find his words, but it was so hard. Even if he knew, even if his uncle was supportive, there was something so vulnerable to strip down all walls and be honest with oneself. There was something so deciding about coming out, the way it altered the course of his life—or set it into the right track, the one he was meant to walk all along.

Mingi was terrified.

He took in a shaky breath, and whispered, “I think I might be gay.”

Jaewoo put down the bottle of beer and the TV remote control, and leaned forward to embrace Mingi in a warm and comforting hug. He ran his hand soothingly over his nephew’s shoulder, where Mingi broke out into a sob. It felt so liberating and terrifying on equal amounts. He was free, but at the same time trapped inside a world that didn’t quite look at him positively.

“You don’t need to figure this out right away, take your time,” Jaewoo told him. “Just know that there is nothing wrong with you,” he added, quietly, tightening his grip on Mingi’s shoulder. “Don’t let anyone make you believe there is something wrong with loving men.”

Mingi nodded his head, breathing a little easier, feeling lighter.

When Mingi and Yeosang graduated high school, Jongho wasn’t too thrilled about being left behind for a whole year. He had other friends, of course—just recently he had begun to befriend Choi San, who was being held back for a year due to falling sick in February—but the three of them had always been a package deal. They had walked these streets since they were little kids and had just learned how to walk, and these streets held all their secrets and stories. 

The picturesque neighborhood was where they had grown up at and that would never change, it had shaped them into who they were today.

Leaving home was bittersweet and Mingi felt his chest tighten as he watched the green pine forest disappear behind him—the sea of green getting swallowed—until all he could see was the highway and the farms that stretched out wide and far. 

He was excited to start university and live in the city, of course—it wasn’t even too far away from home, just a few hours—but it felt like a journey around the world. 

Hongjoong had helped him and Yeosang find a cheap flat near their campus, how to spice up their curriculums for part time jobs, and even had shown them around—and Yunho—about two weeks ago when they had come to visit him. Hongjoong lived near university with Seonghwa in a small apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was their home. 

With the small amount of money Mingi had saved up from part timing at his uncle’s car cemetery and of course the money Jaewoo had put aside for this occasion, Mingi and Yeosang were able to afford a nice flat. It wasn’t big by any means, but it had large windows and the view wasn’t all too bad; it was certainly a lot more than they had expected to get. 

Mingi was determined to make a home out of it.

“Are you excited?” Jaewoo asked once the city raised in the distance, its tall skyscrapers lining up and down the horizon like a wall.

Mingi pulled his eyes away from the landscape surrounding them, turning down the radio slightly.

“Yes. Mostly nervous, though,” he admitted.

“That’s normal. I was also mostly nervous when I moved away for university.” Jaewoo smiled. “You’ll find a lot of freedom in independent living, but also a lot of new responsibilities. Although, I think you and Yeosang are ready for it. You’ve got some good friends, Mingi, that’s a lot more than some have.”

Mingi thought about Hongjoong getting kicked out of home a year ago, alone if it weren’t for Seonghwa, and his heart ached. He had never realized how precious the things he had were.

“Yeah. I think it’ll be good. Really good.”

“I think so too.”

They drove up to the apartment, Yeosang was already there, his parents hugging him tightly, while Yeosang held a look of exasperation on his face, but his eyes were misty. Jaewoo parked the car and got out to help Mingi carry his stuff to the apartment. Once all boxes—which there weren’t many of—were up in the flat, Yeosang and Mingi were left alone to unpack and turn the bare and empty space into their new home.

When the sun was gone and the moon had taken its place in the sky, and the stars were gone due to the intense lights of the city, Yeosang and Mingi sat on the floor with take out boxes around them. Traffic noises filtered through their open windows, and somewhere in the distance a train drove over the tracks. Mingi had grown up in a silent place—the car cemetery—where all things were dead, the only sounds present to accompany him had been the howling of the wind and during summer time the crickets that had sang sad songs. It was slightly overwhelming to hear so many sounds, but it expanded his heart. There were so many people around them with their own lives and stories, all around them things were happening.

“This is pretty great, huh?” Yeosang muttered, glancing out of the living room window, dipping his fried chicken into sour cream.

“Yeah,” Mingi breathed. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

“Wooyoung sent a message earlier saying him and Yunho have settled in fairly well, and if we were up to meet them—with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, of course—at this bar nearby to celebrate,” Yeosang said. “But it’s okay if you’re too tired. We can reschedule.”

Mingi shook his head, stretching out his arms above his head. “No, let’s meet them. I really want to celebrate.” He stood up from the floor. “I’ll make us some coffee.” Yeosang nodded his head, already pulling out his phone to text his cousin. Mingi wandered into the attached kitchenette, where they had a water boiler and some instant coffee. 

(They would have to buy a coffee machine sooner or later. Instant coffee just didn’t really do it for him.)

About an hour later they walked through the entrance of a small bar a few blocks away, young people lining the street outside, holding drinks in plastic cups and smoking cigarettes, and talking animatedly. The neon sign hanging above the entrance reflected in a puddle of rain water on the pavement and when Mingi read the name his heart hurt a little, in a good way. _The Wonderbar_. When Mingi saw the rainbow flag hanging by the entrance he smiled, a sense of pride and belonging filling him. He still hadn’t told anyone about his revelation regarding his sexuality, only Jaewoo was in the known. He was terrified of losing his friends. Even if Yeosang was supportive of his cousin, and Jongho as well, he felt so scared about opening up to them. 

(There was the awkward kiss with Yunho, too, that neither had brought up again.)

He was determined to tell them soon.

Yeosang didn’t seem all too faced by the flag, walking inside confidently, craning his neck to search for their friends. They found them seconds later, seated by the back of the bar. Mingi shyly took the seat right next to Hongjoong, his heart pounding in his chest. Over the past months they had grown closer and if Mingi had had doubts about his feelings for the older boy before, he knew for certain now that he had a crush on him.

“Mingi!” Wooyoung exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly, and threw himself at Mingi, hugging him tightly. Mingi and Wooyoung had gotten along the few times they had seen each other during their childhoods. Over the summer Wooyoung had visited the picturesque neighborhood for three weeks, which had only solidified their friendship.

“Hey,” Mingi said softly, patting Wooyoung’s back. “You look good.”

Wooyoung pulled a face. “Thank you. It’s kind of hard to believe that, my face is covered in pimples.” 

“But your voice dropped too!” Yunho pointed out, smiling kindly. “The pimples are only temporary.”

“Yeah, I know, but still…” Wooyoung shrugged. “Anyway,” he started, turning to look at Yeosang and Mingi, looking for a chance to pull the attention away from himself, “did you two settle in nicely?”

“We unpacked most boxes,” Yeosang answered. “But now it looks like a bomb went off. We have to start sorting things out. I think I heavily miscalculated how many shelves we’d need.”

“Seonghwa hyung has a driver’s license, he could drive you to Ikea,” Yunho said. 

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, yeah, let’s do a shopping spree at Ikea. We can get hot dogs afterwards!”

“I’ll never understand your love for Ikea,” Yeosang muttered, scrunching up his nose.

Mingi tuned out their bickering in favor of focusing on Hongjoong, who was silently sipping his drink—something blueish with a piece of pineapple stuck to the rim of the glass. He had a small smile on his face, delightfully watching his friends. He noticed Mingi staring at him and turned his head towards him.

“What?” he inquired, raising his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” Mingi muttered, flushing, but he did not look away. “I’m just really glad to be here—with you.”

Hongjoong’s smile broadened. “Me too.”

“I’m really glad to be here,” Mingi repeated, softer. Jaewoo’s words about friendship, and the story of how Mingi’s parents had met, as well as the revelation that Jaewoo was gay and had probably hung out often in this same bar, it made everything fall into place—kind of. There were still so many open ends, but Mingi felt closure in some painful places of his soul.

Hongjoong tipped his head back, glancing at Mingi with a peculiar and searching gaze. “Do you remember what I made you promise me?” Mingi nodded his head, frowning as to why Hongjoong was bringing it up. “Did you find it already?”

“No.”

“Well, good. I was in a bad place back then and thought life was just bitterness and holding onto something big to make you stay alive,” he started saying. “But you don’t have to find a thing. You just—gotta live.”

“How drunk are you?” asked Seonghwa, who had been listening in on their conversation.

“Shut up,” Hongjoong hissed, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “This was meant to be a heartfelt moment.”

Seonghwa laughed. Mingi smiled. Hongjoong tried to look offended at being teased but soon a sweet smile bloomed on his face. Mingi was so in love, no denying that anymore.

  
(The first night that Mingi slept in his new bed, in his and Yeosang’s new flat, in the new city, his dreams were wild. They were free of the car cemetery’s precinct and now could live and flourish in a new space. Mingi woke up with a new perspective towards life, quite literally. The white and bare walls of his bedroom offered so much place for new things. It was odd at first to not see his old bedroom, but when he breathed in the morning air, cool and fresh and filtering through his opened window, he felt like his old self still but for the first time that didn’t seem so bad. It didn’t feel bad to be _just_ Mingi.)  
  
  


Two months after starting university Wooyoung dropped out, saying he couldn’t do it anymore. He cried for an hour in Yeosang’s arms, and then Mingi brought cheap alcohol from the grocery shop next to their flat, and they got drunk that night, ignoring the fact they had early classes the following morning. They played video games and talked shit about life and adulthood. 

Wooyoung never went back to university in the following months, but neither did he return to his hometown. He stayed with them, living together with Yunho, and began working in retail, getting by as he transitioned and figured out what _exactly_ he wanted to do if it hadn’t been studying Human Rights. 

Wooyoung began exploring his options, and Mingi envied him a little bit.

Mingi himself was drowning in essays and presentations that he felt held no meaning to him, and his body ached most nights due to basketball practice. When he told Jaewoo this, his uncle said that what was most important to him was Mingi’s happiness, not his degree or scholarship. Mingi didn’t know what to do, there was no correct direction anymore in his life.

The only steady things—that made him feel sane and safe—were his friends and Hongjoong.

Hongjoong and Mingi had gone from awkwardly dancing around one another to pointedly flirting, much to the annoyance of their friends. Yeosang and Wooyoung often conspired between each other about whether Mingi would break first or Hongjoong. Yunho had started to drop hints that they needed to get together already.

Mingi wasn’t sure why they were hesitating, at some point he had stopped understanding what they were doing, but for as long as Hongjoong hesitated, he did too.

  
(Life could be hard, trial after trial, but sometimes, once in a while, it was kind.)  
  


It was January and Mingi, Hongjoong, and Yeosang were back in the picturesque neighborhood, visiting their families. Seonghwa and Yunho had stayed in the city together with Wooyoung, so that he wouldn’t be all alone. Wooyoung hadn’t said it, but they all knew he was grateful for that. Loneliness could do awful things to a person. Mingi knew.

Jaewoo tried to give him valuable advice.

“Don’t drag out your path to happiness for too long, Mingi,” he told him one night.

“How do I know which one the path to happiness is, hyung?” Mingi asked, desperate.

“The one which, despite the hardships that might come, you regret the least,” Jaewoo told him.

“Was this,” Mingi started, gesturing around the small house with his hands, “your path to happiness?”

Jaewoo stayed silent. It wasn’t a _no_ , but it wasn’t a _yes_ either. It was a ‘no, but’ and a ‘yes, but’. Mingi nodded his head, understanding now. Compromises were a big part of life. He knew then that he wouldn’t finish university, at least not his current degree. He’d find something else. What he knew was that he wanted to stay in the city, with his old and new friends. He had found a home there.

“I’m heading out,” Mingi told Jaewoo. “I’m meeting Hongjoong hyung.”

Jaewoo nodded his head. “Have fun!” he called after his nephew.

The basketball court up by on the hill looked the same as always. A thin layer of snow covered the washed out floor during this time of the year and the gigantic buildings looked even more lonely without students throwing a party—it was too cold for that. The small town looked enchanted from up there, with snow covering all surfaces and new, thick snowflakes falling steadily. A pang of nostalgia shot through him.

Mingi took in a deep breath. The air in his lungs and the cold air outside tasted the same. There was no pressure on his chest, there was no anxiety nagging at him, he was just there, on the basketball court.

Sometimes life could be that easy, just a fresh, deep breath and all made sense.

The last open end of Mingi’s past stood right there, hugged in a beige winter coat and a colorful beanie sitting on his head. Hongjoong was looking up at the cloudy sky, snowflakes decorating his face.

“Hyung,” Mingi called out quietly.

Hongjoong looked away from the sky and at Mingi. He was beautiful. There was no hesitation in his eyes, and neither did Mingi feel any.

They met halfway, standing so close Mingi could feel Hongjoong’s body heat. One look at each other’s eyes and they surged forward at the same time, their lips meeting. Hongjoong’s lips were cold, but so were Mingi’s. It was a soft kiss, but it didn’t last for long. Mingi had to pull away to breathe—with the winter season came colds, and he was certain he had one for he couldn’t breathe through his nose.

Hongjoong giggled. “That was anticlimactic,” he muttered.

“I don’t care. I’ve been waiting so long for it.”

“Me too,” Hongjoong admitted. “From the first time we met.”

Mingi nodded his head, leaning forward again. Hongjoong’s icy cold fingers ended up in Mingi’s hair, threading through it, untangling the mess the wind had made out of them. Mingi thought back to those same fingers strumming the guitar’s strings, singing quietly in the dead of the night. Some dreams did come true.

Mingi dreamed big, always had and always would— _especially_ now.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much reading💛💛


End file.
